Flecks of Stardust
by transformedstarwarsgal
Summary: Sequel to my other story, Fears. They fought, they came out on top, and now Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus are expecting the best challenge of their lives: a sparkling. Mpreg. It would be wise if you read Fears first.
1. Moving's a Glitch

**Units of Time Being Used in This Story**

Astro-second: half of a second

Nano-klick: second

Klick: minute

Breem: hour

Jour: Day

Deca-cycle: week

Orn: month

Vorn: year

**Chapter 1: Moving's a Glitch**

"Are you sure you should be doing heavy lifting in your condition?" Ultra Magnus asked for the millionth time that jour, his voice slightly muffled by the large stack of crates in his arms. He was walking behind his mate, through the small muck-room at the front of the house. They both had crates in their arms, filled with the things they had actually owned while living in the large apartment; almost everything at the apartment was owned by the Senate, and given to the Prime only if he chose to live in their "accommodations."

Optimus and Magnus had been thinking about moving out of the apartment for a while now. Neither had ever really enjoyed living in such a large place, and it was becoming incredibly difficult for them to hide the details of Optimus's condition from the public while living in the center of Iacon. The fact that they didn't want their son or daughter to grow up under the media's cold optics just made them finally figure everything out. A small, one floor, three berthroom house on the outskirts of Iacon was where they choose to live. It was near enough to the Citadel so Optimus could drive there when he was needed, and it was so rural that the media would probably never even think to look there for them.

"One, it's two crates and they barely weigh anything," Optimus remarked, as he shuffled into the room that would soon be their living room and placed the crates of data pads on the floor. They had donated most of his data pads to his mentor, Alpha Trion, and the Hall of Records, but there were a few that Optimus just couldn't bear to part with yet. He sat down on them, his legs aching from overextending himself for most of the jour. He shouldn't even be walking without his crutches, let alone carrying things around. "And two, I'm only ten deca-cycles into a fifteen orn carrying cycle. The sparkling is still attached to my spark for Primus' sake."

After Optimus told him the good news, Magnus had done what every mech does when he learned that their significant other was carrying. He kissed Optimus, asked if he was sure, and babbled about how excited he was to finally be a sire. Optimus had been smiling the whole` time, enjoying the sound of Magnus's enthusiasm. It wasn't often that Magnus was so happy that he rambled like this, and Optimus was gladly saving the moment for memories later on.

"I know, I know, I'm just worried. Ratchet said that if you don't take it easy throughout the whole thing, you could do serious damage to you and the sparkling. I'm not risking either of you just so this whole process goes a little faster," Magnus said, placing the crates down next to where Optimus had put his. He leaned over his mate's tired frame, servos braced on the crate, and pressed a gentle kiss on Optimus's lips. "I love you too much."

Mini Flashback

_Magnus finally ended his incessant babbling around ten klicks after he began; he just stopped talking completely, staring Optimus directly in the optics, his gaze boring into his mate's very life-force. He didn't look happy anymore either. He looked absolutely terrified, mouthplate hanging open ever so slightly, optics wide like he'd seen the phantom of his sire. "Optimus," he murmured, optics dropping to his servo. It was resting over Optimus's chestplates, where their little one's spark was currently residing until he or she moved down to the gestation chamber in Optimus's abdomen to meet with their protoform. "What...what happens if, when, you have a seizure? Will the sparkling be alright?" _

_"Ratchet said that he wasn't sure, and Anti-Body wants me to continue taking all of my anti-seizures throughout the carrying cycle, and for you to call him the moment I start seizing. Other than that, I just need to keep my stress-levels down and get regular check-ups. Same as any other carrier."_

_Magnus smiled, and Optimus returned it._

End Mini Flashback

"We still have around ten boxes that need to come in," Optimus murmured against Magnus's lipplates, smiling when his mate whined. Most of their possessions were inside the house already, since Ironhide and Magnus's partner, Skyburner, had come by earlier to help move most of the furniture that Magnus couldn't do alone. There were still a moderately-sized pile of things outside though; it was almost night, so they needed to rush before it got too cold and dark. "And that new data pad shelf for the living room."

"Why didn't we get your apprentice to help us? He's young and able," Magnus joked, standing to his full high, stretching out his sore backstruts. "I'm too old for this."

"You're not even close to being old, you fragger, and I didn't ask Hot Rod to help because, like you said, he's young. He has a life outside of being my apprentice," he joked half-sparked, before added in a rather lower volume and energy, "Besides, I don't like how much he hits on you..." Optimus answered honestly, frowning. Optimus had never been the jealous type; he knew how much Magnus loved him, but lately he had felt rather insecure. Maybe it was sparkling chemicals messing with how he thought and felt, but he was suddenly incredibly worried about Magnus leaving him for someone young, someone who wasn't broken.

"Optimus," Magnus murmured, kneeling besides his mate and gently running his thumb along the side of Optimus's helm. Yes, he had noticed Hot Rod taking exceptional interest in his life, but he had assumed it was just the mech wanting to be friendly with his teacher's sparkmate. Apparently, Optimus had taken it much differently. "I never realized you felt like that. I just assumed he was being nice."

Optimus sighed. "You're right, I'm overreacting, and I'm sorry. He's just an exceptionally friendly youngling, that's all." He stood up, a low moan escaping him when his legs began to cramp up. He took one step away from his mate, faltered, and fell to his knees.

Magnus was by his side in half and astro-second. He knew exactly what to do when Optimus's legs were cramping up; he quickly straightened Optimus's legs, and laid him down flat. If it wasn't in one of the many crates they had, Magnus would have grabbed the weighted, hot packed thermal blanket Anti Body had given them. It always helped with the pain, and usually made the cramps end faster. Right now, though, all he could do was gently massage the tender muscle cables and send Optimus comforting feelings through the bond.

After the cramps dissipated to soreness instead of outright agony, Optimus sat up and practically crawled into Magnus's lap.

Magnus kissed his helm, and gently helped him stand. He could tell that Optimus was exhausted, and needed to stop. "Come on, love. Why don't you lie down in our new room, maybe unpack a few things? Only if you feel up to it, of course."

Optimus shook his helm, "You shouldn't have to get everything inside alone. That's not fair."

"Optimus, my beautiful, caring, idiotic sparkmate. You are too tired and in too much pain to be of any real help." They walked through the only hallway in their new home, towards the three rooms that would stand as the master berthroom, the guestroom, and...their sparklings room. The master berthroom was a bland room, with only a berth against the far wall. There were a few crates around the berth, mostly just little things they had collected over the vorns and Optimus's things that needed to be unpacked first (medication, thermals, etc.), but not a thing was actually unpacked yet.

Magnus let Optimus walk himself to their berth, as he opened the crate with the thick thermal they usually used for recharge; navy blue and great for nights when they wanted to cuddle because Optimus was violently shivering. He looked over at his sparkmate, chuckling lightly when he saw his usually rather intimidating mate curled up in a ball on Magnus's side, already out cold.

He looked too cute; Magnus saved the moment to his memory, and draped the thermal over his mate. Turning off the lights for their room, Magnus left his sparkmate to recharge peacefully.

**The first chapter is finished. Reviews, while not necessary, make me a happy person knowing what you think about my story. Did you enjoy it? Want it to be longer? Any plot points you don't think I covered that I need to? Anything you really want to happen?**


	2. Carrier Problems

Chapter 2: Getting There

The first time Optimus had a seizure during his carrying cycle, Magnus had commed Anti Body and rushed him to the nearest hospice. They had been organizing their living room when Optimus complained that his backstruts were hurting. He sat down on the floor for a few moments before violently seizing for 3 klicks. He had scan after scan after test done on him for a jour and a half at the hospice. The sparkling was fine.

His second seizure was in the middle of the night. Again, Magnus called Anti Body and they went to hospice. He was again deemed healthy and sent home. The sparkling was fine.

The third was while he was at Ratchet and Ironhide's place, catching up and talking about plans for the future. Obviously, Ratchet took charge. He ruled out any dangers to the sparkling quickly and they didn't go to the hospice. The sparkling was fine.

Thankfully, they never had a moment where the sparkling wasn't fine. Optimus had the best care he could ask for. That didn't mean Magnus wasn't a panicky mess every time Optimus seized. Any mech would be if their mate and little one were in danger.

"Three breems in," Optimus would say as they're lying in berth, after a particularly bad seizure. "And we're still good."

"Twelve more to go," Magnus would reply, staring at his mate in the dark. "Plenty of time for something to go wrong."

"Stop being such a pessimist."

"Okay, I'm sorry."

* * *

"Ugh, this is disgusting," Optimus spit into the bucket. Another spasm of nausea hit him, forcing him to empty his already empty tanks. All that came up was the thin lining of acids that turned anything his consumed into something his systems could use. Once it was over, he pushed the bucket that was full of his undigested energon away from himself and rested his backstruts against a wall. "I hate this."

Magnus, who was sitting next to his mate on the floor of their washracks, went over to the sink and dumped the purge out. The things you do for the love of your life, he thought with a chuckle.

After he finished cleaning the bucket (well, mostly), he placed it back next to Optimus, whom was already looking queasy again. He leaned over his sparkmate's exhausted chassis, checking the mech's temperature—it was too high for Magnus's liking and if it got any higher, Prime might go into shock. Which could be dangerous for the sparkling.

Optimus had felt nauseous for a while, and had purged a bit in the first deca-cycle. Nothing too bad, and neither Ratchet nor Anti Body were concerned. Now, though, he wasn't able to get anything to stay down long enough for his internals to get the needed minerals from the energon. This caused his systems to run on low energy, barely fighting off the disease, and making his optics a dim blue color to keep energy; it all just made him look positively sickly.

Ultra Magnus attempted to get Optimus to drink something but the mech just shook his helm. "Optimus, your energy levels are too low for you to refuse getting something, anything, into your systems," Magnus reminded his sparkmate, holding the container to Optimus's lip plates.

Optimus took a small sip, the energon bitter on his glossa from the purging. He laid still for a few klicks until his tanks began churning again, threatening to bring it back up.

"Bucket," Optimus groaned through his servo covering his mouthplate. He was desperately trying not to purge on the floor or even worse, Magnus. That would be really bad.

Magnus held the bucket for his sparkmate as Optimus purged everything in his already weakening systems. "I'm getting Ratchet down here with an energon drip," Magnus muttered, unable to watch Optimus suffer any longer. "Want to try to get to our room?"

Optimus nodded.

Knowing that Optimus wouldn't be able to support himself safely, Magnus decided to carry him. Gently, he lifted Optimus's almost-limp frame into his arms. It was a stretch, Optimus wasn't light, but Magnus was strong and had done this before. There had been too many times where he had had to carrying his sparkmate because he couldn't walk.

Optimus rested his helm in the crook of Magnus's neck, and whispered a small "thanks" as they left the now horribly smelling washracks.

"Always," Magnus murmured, gently lying Optimus down on their berth. He tucked the thermal around his mate. Optimus was shivering from the fever. "Yell if you need me, I'm going to go comm Ratchet. Love you."

Ultra Magnus sat down, turning on his commlink and waiting for Ratchet to respond. The sofa was usually comfortable, but the worry he felt for his mate and unborn sparkling turned the cushions into sharp pins digging into his armor. Ratchet answered, and Magnus explained the situation.

::I'll be over soon::

After Ratchet broke the connection, Magnus began to cry. Faceplate pressed into his servos, hunched over his knees, tears streaming from his optics. Purging was common for sparked mechs; maybe not so much that you're too weak to move, but it is common. Magnus tried to convince himself that this was normal, and Optimus was going to be fine, but he knew that it was...unlikely that Optimus would make it the end of term.

~Magnus, are you alright?~ Optimus asked over the bond.

Wiping away tears like Optimus could tell from the other room, Magnus tried to compose himself enough to answer. ~I'm fine, love, you should be resting.~

~I am. Can you come here?~

Magnus didn't say anything. He stood up and went to his berthroom, standing in the doorway. Optimus was sitting on the berth, leaning heavily against the helmrest. He looked absolutely exhausted, but still had that air about him; something Magnus took for granted every moment of the jour. It gave him the power to silence a room with a look, and he could reduce Magnus to a shriveling mess within astro-seconds.

Taking slow steps towards his mate, Magnus lied down on the berth next to him. Well, if next to him is in his lap. Optimus ran gentle digits along Magnus's backstruts, his spark breaking as he felt the hot tears of coolant stain his thighs. "Shh, it's going to be alright," he murmured, his voice breaking as tears slid down his own faceplate.

Magnus sat up, pulling Optimus into his arms and burying his faceplate into the crook of his neck. It may have looked like he was comforting Optimus from afar, but that's not why he was desperately holding onto him. He needed the comfort now, knowing that Optimus was right there, in his arms, and wasn't going anywhere.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too."

* * *

It didn't take long for Optimus to fall into a light recharge cycle after both of them had calmed down, his intakes slow and steady. Feeling his mate's warm chassis against him almost made Magnus fall into recharge himself until he felt his shoulder-strut being shook, and Ratchet's voice telling him to wake up.

"I wasn't recharging," Magnus defended, getting up slowly to make sure Optimus stayed asleep. Prime needed the recharge and, well, he hated needles and he had to have a pretty big needle inserted into his arm for the energon drip to work. "Wait, how did you get in? The door locks automatically."

"Optimus gave me a key," Ratchet answered without looking at Magnus, wheeling the portable energon drip over to his leader. He carefully turned Optimus on his backstruts and kneeling down next to the still recharging mech. He inserted the drip needle into Prime's main energon line on his wrist and put a small, easily removed weld on it so the thing wouldn't move too much. Optimus shifted around slightly, but didn't wake or try to pull out the drip.

After Ratchet flipped a few switches and turned a knob, a dark blue liquid ran out from the machine and into Optimus. The color began to return to Optimus's armor. "There, he should keep that in until he can ingest anything. Make sure he doesn't pull it out in his recharge or play with it."

"Got it," Magnus said, nodding. "Thank you."

"You're Welcome." Ratchet double-checked the drip to make sure everything was working and then turned towards Magnus again. "Comm me if anything happens, or if Optimus feels any sharp pains in his chest. That can show that the sparkling isn't getting enough energon, and will need immediate action. Also, there are chemicals in the energon that, as it enters his systems, should lower his temperature dramatically, so keep the thermal on him."

"Understood."

Ratchet left, leaving Ultra Magnus with his recharging sparkmate.

Sitting down, Magnus checked Optimus's temperature, almost crying out in glee when he felt that it had gone down. Only a little, barely noticeable but that meant that Optimus was getting better. The sparkling was in less danger than five klicks ago.

Optimus's optic covers flickered a few times, and then opened nano-klicks later and Magnus inwardly groaned; he always forgot how much of a light recharger Optimus was.

"Hey," Optimus murmured, barely above a whisper. Magnus ran the back of his servo down the side of Optimus's helm, smiling when the Prime leaned into the touch; he even heard a soft purring noise, something he adored hearing. Prime turned his helm towards the energon drip, keeping a very neutral expression. "That bad?"

"Yeah, you just missed Ratchet," Magnus said, grabbing the thermal blanket and tucking it a little better around Optimus to keep himself busy. He smiled, trying to get Prime to as well. He didn't. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been steamrolled by a triple-changer," Optimus muttered dryly, trying to sit up only to practically fall back down. He was still much too weak to even lift his helm, let alone his whole upper-body.

"Hey, don't try to move just yet," Magnus ordered softly.

Optimus listened to his mate for once.

It was silent for a while, until Optimus turned on his side to look at Magnus and spoke. "We haven't thought of any names yet."

"Would you like to?"

"I like Andromeda," Optimus said, leaning his helm on his palm as he waited for Magnus's input.

"That's a very impractical name for a mech," Magnus said, no humor in his voice, a cheeky grin on his faceplate.

"For a femme, you aft." Optimus smacked Magnus's shoulder.

"My previous statement still stands."

"I hate you so much," Optimus muttered, burying his helm in the gel pillow. He wasn't really mad, just a little annoyed that Magnus wasn't taking this as seriously as him.

Magnus wrapped his arms around his mate, whispering in his audio receptor. "How about Ambermist for a femme and Desmond for a mech."

Optimus laughed. "I don't like Desmond. What about Valour?"

**So, what do you think about Valour? Got anymore names for me? **


	3. Splotches of Paint

**Chapter 3: Splotches of Paint**

They were six orns into Optimus's carrying cycle and everything was still going great. Magnus still got incredibly worried when Optimus had a seizure, and that wouldn't go away until their sparkling was safely delivered in nine orns. It irritated Optimus to no end when he was being coddled like the sparkling growing inside him.

Optimus wasn't showing yet, but he would be in a deca-cycle or so. At seven orns, the spark of the little one would drop to the gestation chamber in their carrier's abdomen, where it would meet up with the protoform. That's when the protoform began growing, and Optimus's abdomen plates would expand to compensate. It's also when they would be able to figure out the sparkling's frame-type.

Once the sparkling began to grow, it would become more and more difficult for Optimus to get around without hurting himself. Anti Body and Ratchet had figured that by 12 orns, Optimus wouldn't be able to move around without risking his or the sparkling's health. So, that was when he was going on paternity leave, returning to his role as Prime about two deca-cycles after the sparkling was born.

For now, Optimus needed to make sure everything was perfectly in order at the Citadel way ahead of the date he was set to leave. Hot Rod needed to know what had to happen so that the Autobots ran smoothly in their Prime's absence. Of course, Prowl would be there to help the whole time, and if something dire happened, Optimus could be called, but that didn't still the terror residing in the young mech.

"Hot Rod, you will be fine. You should not be worrying about it now, anyways. It is six orns away." Optimus was watching his apprentice pace around his office, trying to reassure the younger mech that nothing bad would happen when Hot Rod took over.

He was sitting in his chair, leaning back to try to reduce the uncomfortable feeling in his chestplates; the sparkling was getting ready to leave Optimus's spark by syphoning energy from his spark. Not painful, nor dangerous, and all Optimus needed to do was drink a lot of energon to keep it that way.

Hot Rod didn't seem to hear his mentor's comforting words , his quick steps echoing throughout the small room. "It's only a few orns, but so much can go wrong in a few orns. What if I miss some work, and the entire Cybertronian systems collapses, or I give a bad order—"

Optimus had had enough of Hot Rod's panicking. Grabbing his crutches, Optimus stood and hopped over to his apprentice. He leaned against one crutch, and swung the other out in front of Hot Rod in trying to stop him. The younger mech didn't notice the crutch, and walked through the barricade. He knocked Optimus off-balance, which made him trip without the right hold on the ground.

That caught Hot Rod's attention. He reached both servos out frantically to catch his mentor. He hook his arms underneath Optimus's arms, and pulled him to his peds just as Optimus was about to fall to his aft.

"Are you alright, sir?" he asked, holding both servos against Optimus's shoulders, checking him over. "You need to be more careful. What if you had hurt the sparkling?"

"Hot Rod, I'm fine," Optimus assured, chuckling softly to himself. He won't be trying that again, but it did get the desired result. He went back to his desk, and sat on it for a moment. "How are you?"

"Panicky," Hot Rod admitted, looking at his peds as if he wasn't able to feel that way. He would be the Prime someday, without Optimus there as his metaphorical crutch; he just didn't want it to come so soon.

"Come here, youngling," Optimus murmured, opening his arms towards his apprentice as he stood up again.

Hot Rod stood awkwardly next to Optimus, before the older mech pulled him into a warm hug. Like the youngling Optimus still believed him to be, Hot Rod buried his helm into Optimus's chestplates, relishing in the soothing beat of his mentor's spark, and the barely noticeable sparkbeat of the sparkling right alongside.

"You know, I never believed myself to be good enough to be Prime either. My sire convinced me that I was useless, and for the longest time, I believed every word he said." Now, though, I know that he was wrong. And any doubts you have are wrong, alright? Remember, I didn't choose you, the matrix did, and it knows how to pick a Prime."

Hot Rod smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome," Optimus returned the smile, placing a small kiss to Hot Rod's forehelm, like a creator would to their son. "Now, I need to go home soon. Magnus and I are going to begin painting the sparkling's room. Would you like to join?"

Hot Rod beamed. "Totally!"

* * *

Magnus was sitting on the floor of an empty room; the sparkling's room, to be specific. There were some large tins of paint in front of him, all of which were the colors they had finally agreed on. Optimus had wanted green, and Magnus had wanted blue; they decided to go with a light turquoise color, and Optimus was going to add some details in black. He refused to say what these details would be.

The sound of the front door opening caught Magnus's attention. He stood up, standing in the doorway of the nursery as he watched Optimus hop into the house. Optimus was wearing his facemask, but it slid away when he saw Magnus and smiled.

What surprised Magnus was that his sparkmate wasn't alone. Optimus's young apprentice, Hot Rod was walking behind him. The same apprentice Optimus didn't really enjoy having Magnus around.

They approached him, and Magnus gave Optimus a small kiss, as he moved out-of-the-way to let them in the room.

Hot Rod shook Magnus's servo politely, with a wide grin. He looked ready to jump from his protoform and engulf Magnus in his essence. "Hey there, Ultra Magnus! How ya doing?"

"I am well. And you?" Magnus asked, while simultaneously talking to Optimus over their sparkbond. ~I thought you didn't like Hot Rod and myself around one another...~

Optimus sent him a small, quick glare. Hot Rod didn't notice. ~I still don't, but Hot Rod is stressful about taking my place while I'm on leave. This will help distract him.~

~Whatever you say, love.~ Magnus politely side-stepped away from Hot Rod and stood next to his mate, wrapping an arm around him in an awkward hug. He was never that great at public displays of affection, even if it was only one other mech.

"Did you get all the paint?" Optimus asked, looking down at the tins. He trusted his mate to get everything, but he was a worrier.

"Of course," Magnus replied, smiling at his sparkmate.

"Alright, let's get to it."

* * *

"So, are you going to education for anything now?" Magnus asked Hot Rod, as they both waited in the living room for Optimus to finish with the details for the sparkling room. It took them all about a breem to get all the walls turquoise, and once the paint was dry, Optimus had kicked the other two out so that he could work in privacy and quiet.

"Not really," Hot Rod admitted, giving a little shrug of his shoulders. "Being Optimus Prime's apprentice takes up most of my time. And I already know what I'm doing with my life, so what does it matter, really?"

"Oh, and are you happy about that?"

"Well, yeah, I guess, who could complain when their elected the new Prime." Magnus raised an optic ridge when Hot Rod spoke as if he had the matrix in his possession already. The youngling chuckled awkwardly, correcting himself. "You know, once Optimus kicks the buc—steps down."

Magnus sighed, more than a little aggravated with Hot Rod. He was still very young for someone with his amount of responsibility, but that was no excuse for such poor choices of wording.

Besides, Optimus had been given the Matrix at Hot Rod's age.

They sat in silence for about a breem. Hot Rod didn't like silence, and was about to go crazy, when they heard an excited shout come from the nursery. "DONE! Magnus, Hot Rod, come in here!"

They both stood up and fast-walked down the hall. Magnus opened the door to the sparkling's room, and gasped when he saw the finished walls.

The room...it was beautiful. Optimus had painted the solar system on the wall, the turquoise a strong contrast against the black. It was incredibly detailed, and every star looked like it was shimmering. The two colors swirled into a nebula in the center of each wall.

Optimus was standing in the center of the room, with a huge smile on his faceplate. His crutches were on the ground next to him; the random splotches of black on his arms, and a brush with paint dripping from it in his servos made him look very flustered but that grin proved how satisfied with himself he was.

"You like it?" Optimus asked, forgetting he had the brush in servo and wiping his brow. Hot Rod muffled a giggle at the black streak going across his teacher's forehelm.

"I love it," Magnus murmured, as he kissed his mate. He grabbed a cloth with some solvent on it from his subspace and got rid of the paint before it dried. "And so will our little one."

**Short and sweet. I thought I should do something with Hot Rod, and someone suggested them getting the sparkling's room ready, so this came to mind. Hope you all enjoy it. Also, if anyone would like to create a cover for my story, and promises to actually do it, I'd love to get that. We could do a trade as well: your picture for a short story of your choosing. **

**Happy Holidays!**


	4. Growing Pains

**Chapter 4: Growing Pains**

_"Go check on them."_

_The mech lying faceplate-down on the berth, limbs splayed away from him, gave a muffled groan in response. He had a processor ache from long breems at work, and he didn't want to deal with anything for at least the rest of the jour. The coolness of the gel-pillow was long gone due to the heat of his helm, but he hadn't realized yet. He turned to his side and stared at his mate, optics half-lidded. "They're fine," he grunted._

_Ratchet smacked his sparkmate's arm in a poor attempt to move him. "Ironhide, they're young and alone. Go check on them."_

_"Can't you?"_

_"You have softer pedsteps than me. Go. Check. On. Them."_

_Ironhide wanted to shout "Bullslag" at the other mech, but from the tone of voice and his mate's arms crossed over his orange and white chestplates, Ironhide knew he shouldn't argue. Not unless he wanted to sleep on the floor with a chastity lock on for the next three orns._

_Grumbling to himself about Ratchet needing to loosen up, Ironhide left their berthroom and walked through the hall of their small apartment. He stopped in front of a door, knowing for a fact that he wouldn't find anything bad behind it. Even if they were "having some fun," they would have stopped once they heard him walking down the halls. He hoped._

_Optimus had begun staying at their place a lot more lately, ever since he began dating Ultra Magnus. While he was technically an adult, he still lived with his sire; a common occurrence on Cybertron. Sentinel didn't like Magnus for a reason he refused to give, though almost everyone around him was sure it was because he was so outdated and still thought that a Prime should not be in a relationship with a mech. Neither Ratchet nor Ironhide cared about the slageater's opinion anymore, and were more than willing to let the young couple spend their time in the spare room. Ratchet was just a little overprotective._

_Without knocking, Ironhide opened the door and walked inside. "Ratchet wanted me to check on you too. So how're you—HOLY PRIMUS!"_

_Magnus had Optimus pinned against the berth, his knees keeping Optimus's legs spread. Most of their armor plating had been discarded and now lay in heaps on the floor. Their lipplates were locked together as if their were desperately trying to become a single, horny being. They were grinding and moaning and a lot of...other things Ironhide didn't want to think of. Thank every deity out there that, at least, they both still had their panel's closed._

_Once Optimus realized that Ironhide was in the doorway, he reacted like he'd just been attacked. He screamed something like a swear he probably shouldn't know yet, and Magnus was shoved off of him, and then off the berth all together._

_There was a tense silence for a while, as Optimus and Ironhide stared at one another. Magnus was sitting on the floor, rubbing his sore aft. After a few long klicks, Optimus spoke. "Do you even know how to knock?" He asked sarcastically._

_"Next time, don't have his—" he jabbed his thumb at Ultra Magnus. "—glossa down your intake, and I won't need to knock. And put your armor back on, you petro-rabbits."_

_Optimus glared at the older mech, but did as he was told. Magnus handed him the red and blue armor while collecting his own at the same time. It only took a few moments before you couldn't see much of either mech's protoform. Exactly how it should be._

_Optimus went to say something but stopped with his mouth open. He pressed a servo to the side of his helmet. "Yes..? Hello, Sire. I'm sorry that I'm late, I just wanted to—no, I'm not getting sparked up by Magnus...Don't talk about him like that. He's a great mech, and I—b-but I...yes Sire. I'll be home right away." Optimus hung up, rubbing his servos along his faceplate. "I have to go. Sentinel has some...suitors he wants me to meet." He looked over at Magnus, who was still sitting on the floor, albeit more comfortably. Coolant began pooling in his optics when he saw how hurt his mechfriend looked. "I'm so sorry," he said barely above a whisper._

_Magnus stood up and sat down next to Optimus, who was visibly shaking. "No need for tears, okay?" He wrapped his arms around his mechfriend, and let Optimus bury himself in his chestplates. "Shh...I love you, and I know that you don't want this to happen. Sentinel is simply in denial. We'll change his views, and if we can't...well, that doesn't matter."_

_Ironhide leaned against the doorway, choosing to silently see how Ultra Magnus consoled Optimus and not get in the way. The poor mech didn't deserve everything that he had to deal with, and now that he finally had someone as great as Magnus, that afthead Sentinel was trying to ruin it. If only Ironhide was allowed to give him a piece of his processor without being thrown in prison for the rest of his vorns._

_"I-I should probably get going," Optimus said, wiping away the few tears falling down his cheeks. He gave Magnus a quick kiss, and stood up. "I...I love you too. By the way."_

_He rushed passed Ironhide without another word and left the apartment._

_Ratchet sent Ironhide confusion and concern over the sparklink, but Ironhide quickly explained that Optimus had need to leave because Sentinel was being an aft. He "accidentally" left out what had occurred before Ironhide showed up._

_"So, I'll...um...I'll be off then. Thank you for your hospitality," Ultra Magnus muttered, rubbing his servo along his neck. He tried to get passed Ironhide as quickly as Optimus had, but the black mech was having none of that._

_"Thank you for caring about Optimus," he said as he blocked Magnus's path. The younger mech looked uncomfortable, but smiled none-the-less. "He needs someone now."_

_"I'll gladly be that someone."_

**15,000 Vorns Later**

Two mechs sat in a small living room. One was sitting comfortably on the sofa in the middle of the room, watching a program on the holonet with low volume. The other mech was lying on the rest of the sofa, his helm in the first mech's lap. The second mech had fallen into recharge about a breem ago, and even now he was subconsciously running his digits along the first mech's slightly distended abdomen plates.

Optimus was ten orns along, and as he began showing, he was becoming more uncomfortable with every jour tasks. Things that he was usually able to do with ease, even after he got sick, now took a lot more effort and sometimes help from others. He had also started drinking one extra cube of medical grade energon along with his normal amount due to how much the sparkling was draining him.

It was almost mid-night cycle, and both mechs should probably be getting to berth soon. Optimus gently tried to wake the other mech, only to get his servo batted away. "Magnus," he murmured, shaking him a little more. "I'm tired. Can you please get off of me so I can go to our berthroom?"

Once his foggy processor figured out what had been said, Magnus sat up. "Do you need help?" He asked through a long yawn. He stretched, smirking when Optimus looked at his taut muscle cabling with a hunger that could beat Unicron.

"I think I've got it," Optimus said, taking his optics off his mate before he had no choice but to pounce the sexy fragger. He grabbed his crutches from the floor, and sent a simple command to turn the holo-net console off. He rocked forward for an astro-second, and stood up, bracing his weight on the forearm crutches. He left the living room, calling to Magnus, "I assume you'll be with me in a moment?"

"Of course, just let me clean up in here a bit." The room wasn't actually all that messy, just a few empty cubes and random data pads; Magnus just hated going to recharge when there was any type of mess around him. He began cleaning up the data pads scattered across the center-table. They would need to go somewhere Optimus would be able to find them easily, since they were all from work, he thought.

Optimus nodded, and went down the hall to their berthroom. He smiled as he passed the nursery that still wasn't very furnished. There was a large, gold and blue chest for toys that Magnus's carrier had given to them, even though they didn't have a lot of things to put in it. Ratchet had been so kind to give them a washbin for the sparkling's bathing, and that was now lying upside down off to the side. They do have the recharge crib, it just hadn't been built yet; it was still in a box, waiting for one of them to have enough time to build it. Optimus probably would, once he was on leave.

He laid down on the berth, pulling the thermal over himself and lying on his side. While he wasn't very tired, Optimus knew for a fact that once Magnus was next to him and recharging, he would quickly follow.

"I put your data pads on the shelf in the living room," Magnus said, as he climbed into the berth and hooked his arms underneath Optimus's and wrapped them around the bright red chestplates. He was about to fall back under, when he felt Optimus jump and a wild pulse of happiness jolted through the bond. "What happened?"

Optimus didn't answer, just took one of Magnus's servos and pressed it against his abdomen. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

"Primus," Magnus whispered when he felt a soft kick to the palm of his servo. "They're kicking!"

"Yeah, that's the first time they've kicked. I was getting worried," Optimus said, laughing when the sparkling kicked again, and a fourth time. "I don't think I'm going to be sleeping anytime soon."

"Probably not," Magnus agreed, rubbing his servo along the warm metal protecting his son or daughter. Yes, they could find out which now, but they weren't going to.

Neither of them wanted to graph the sparkling's life and possessions around something as simple and boring as their frametype, so to keep themselves and others from doing so, they were only using things that could be for either a femme or a mech.

"I wish they could feel how happy I am _right_ now..." Magnus murmured sadly. Sparklings bond with their carriers first, and then the sire. The bond with the carrier would always be stronger, but sparklings should be able to feel their sire's emotions, and vice versa. Even with only five orns left, Magnus could only feel the smallest presence across his and Optimus's bond, and was starting to get aggravated that it wasn't stronger.

"Don't worry, love, Ratchet said the bond will get stronger once our little one sees you for the first time."

"I don't want to wait that long," Magnus grumbled, pulling Optimus flush against him and hugging him like a toy.

Optimus loved how silly his mate was acting at the moment. Magnus didn't often let his guard down, and these were the moments Optimus could treasure. He replied as calmly as he could without laughing. "Well, you're going to have to."

* * *

It had only been two deca-cycles since the sparkling had begun kicking, and Optimus was already sick of it.

He was no longer getting any recharge, since the sparkling seemed to be a night-bot, much like their sire. He could toss and turn all he wanted, but the sparkling growing inside of him refused to stopping pelting his insides for more than ten minutes. And they were powerful kicks too, nothing like the timid "hello, who's there?" they were doing at first. No, now it was kicking as hard as they can, as long as they can, and killing their carrier in the process. At first, Optimus hadn't cared how painfully or how often the sparkling kicked. Kicking means their healthy, so he'll gladly endure. Now, though, he was ready to get this precious little bundle out just so he could ground them for beating every inch of him they could reach.

"Do you want to try walking?" Magnus asked from his side of the berth. If Optimus wasn't getting any recharge, neither of them were, so Magnus was ready to do anything just to manage a few breems before work.

"When has that ever helped?" Optimus rarely got so frustrated that he snapped at Magnus, but now his patience was as gone as he was tired.

"Just a suggestion."

"Well, it's a lousy one," Optimus muttered, only about half-joking. He lied his helm on Magnus's chestplates, groaning when the sparkling kicked again. "I am so ready for him or her to get out of me."

Magnus wrapped an arm around Optimus's waist, silently amused when he could feel the sparkling's kicks through Optimus abdomen plates against his own. "I know; I am too. Do you want to talk about some names to try to pass the time?"

"Alright," Optimus said, "I still really like the name Valour for a mech, and for a femme…" he stopped, thinking of all the names milling around his processor. "I was doing some rounds a few jours ago, and a little yellow and black mech from the scout division suggested Aletheia. He said that it means spirit of truth."

"Sounds like a name for one of the Thirteen."

"I guess."

"I like Valour. It sounds strong."

"Are we deciding on Valour if we have a mech?" Optimus asked, looking up at his mate with curiosity.

"I believe so."

"And we're still stuck on a femme.".

"Don't worry so much, we just need to find the right name," Magnus assured his mate, giving him a quick kiss to the crest of his helmet. He tried to fight back an approaching yawn, not wanting Optimus to see it, but failed.

Optimus watched him with guilt, and sighed. He sat up, rubbing his servos across his faceplate to wake himself up a little more. "I'm going to go try to get some work sorted. Why don't you try to get some recharge?"

Magnus wanted to argue, but he had double-shift that jour; he really needed to get some recharge unless he wanted to get himself fired, or worse. "Alright, love, but I want you to stay home until you've gotten at least three breems of recharge." It was a command, non-negotiable.

Optimus grabbed his crutches, and left their berthroom. He closed the door as quietly as he could. The hall was dark, and he had to turn on a few lights so that he didn't fall or hit something on his way to the living room.

The sparkling gave three painful kicks upwards, that almost sent Optimus to the floor from both surprise and pain. It was a clear reminder that there was a powerful mech or femme inside of his gestation chamber.

"Primus, you kick as hard as your sire."

**I need you all to go to my page and vote for something in a poll for me. The question: should I keep going on the carrying cycle for the next chapter, or jump to the sparkling's birth? Ok, now go vote so I can get the next chapter up as soon as possible. Thanks!**


	5. About to Get Serious

**Chapter Six: About to Get Serious**

"Do you love me?" Optimus asked, running his digits along the inside of his mate's thigh. It was late, but neither mech was actually recharging or planning on it anytime very soon. Optimus only ever got to recharge during the jour, since that was when their sparkling liked to stay mostly. Magnus simply wasn't tired yet; he much prefered to stay awake with Optimus and talk.

"Of course I do," Magnus answered, removing the hand a little too close to his codpiece.

"Go get me some pastes from the freezer?" Optimus nuzzled his helm against Magnus's neck for the full effect of a needy, sparked carrier.

Magnus sighed, kissed Optimus's helm, and stood up. "I'll be right back."

It only took him a few klicks to get the sweet, paste-like candies from the ice-box in the kitchen, and walk back to their berthroom. "Here you go, love," he said, handing Optimus a palm-sized box.

"Thank you." Optimus opened the box calmer than Magnus had expected and bit into one, the liquid insides spilling out on his faceplate.

Magnus watched his mate devour the treats with a smile. The sparkling was due next orn, and Optimus had begun getting random craving for different things; perfectly normal as their little one grew bigger each jour. To save himself some time, Magnus made Optimus write down anything he could think of wanting, and went shopping a few deca-cycles ago. Now they had a scrap-ton of sweets and different types of energon smoothies ready when Optimus wanted some.

* * *

The jours seemed longer somehow, even though Optimus spent most of his free time—except he doesn't actually have busy time anymore- recharging on the sofa, or in his berthroom if he could make it. While the sparkling was still very active during the jour, he or she did spend a few breems catching up on their recharge. And that meant that Optimus could too.

Now that he was on leave, he spent most of his time either recharging or preparing the nursery. He also had to deal with worried calls from Magnus every half-breem; of course, he'd be upset if Magnus wasn't calling him all the time.

All that free time meant that the nursery was almost done. He'd already built the crib, and put a small cot in the master-berthroom for the couple of deca-cycles that the sparkling will spend waking up in the middle of the night. Hot Rod had decided that the sparkling needed toys, so he rounded up some of his friends and had them help him find toys for either frametype. They definitely had enough now. They filled the whole house with different toys, some new and some used by Hot Rod and his friends when they were little.

Now that he was so close to his due date, the sparkling was at more risk if he had a seizure or even caught a small virus. So, that had Ratchet coming by every jour to check on him. Every visit was pretty much the same as the one before it. Ratchet did an energon pump test—he injected Optimus with a small amount of dyed energon (red, if you were curious), and timed how long it took for it to churn throughout his whole systems- to make sure his energon is distributing properly, a common problem in carriers. Their systems would sometimes try to give the sparkling everything, and "forget" to continue caring for its own system, usually resulting in the carrier and sparkling offlining.

He would ask questions while the test was going, as well.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but I'm alright otherwise," Optimus would say almost every jour.

Ratchet always gave him a look like he thought he was lying, but continued with the questions. "How much energon have you had tojour?"

That answer changed, depending on when Ratchet visited.

"Is the sparkling still kicking?"

"Oh, yes."

"Did you take all of your medication?"

"Yes."

Once the energon pump test told Ratchet that Optimus was fine, the medic always took a medical grade energon cube from his subspace, placed it on the nearest table to Optimus, and would leave with only a short "Goodbye."

Currently, Optimus was alone and probably would be until Magnus came home; he was starting to feel lonely. Ratchet had left around three breems ago, anyone he was remotely friendly with was working at this time of the jour, and there was nothing in sparkling preparations that Optimus could do alone while carrying.

::How are you, love::

Perfect timing. Magnus always knew when he needed to talk. The sparkbond that connected their very essences to one another probably helps. ::I'm alright, just a little sore::

::Why?:: Magnus's voice clearly showed his sudden panic. The twinge of worry that cascaded through the bond only reinforced this knowledge.

Optimus sighed, resisting the urge to be sarcastic. ::The sparkling is getting ready for emergence. Ratchet said it's perfectly normal during the last orn for me to feel sore throughout my lower-chassis, and tender in my valve. It's expanding and that doesn't feel good::

::Oh...well, at least it's nothing serious::

::Not at all::

::Alright. I should be home in two or three breems and I'm probably not going to be able to check on you until then. We have a drill with the new enforcers, and I've been chosen to lead it.:: Most would be honored that they were believed to be so great that they could teach the next generation, but Magnus was too annoyed to be proud. ::Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything:: The last word was emphasized so that Optimus knew how much Magnus wanted to be there for him.

::I know, you tell me every time you call:: Optimus paused when Magnus practically beat his own minor amusement with a (fake) dark cloud of aggravation in the bond. ::I love you::

::I love you more::

::I'm too tired to argue this with you. Maybe when you get home::

* * *

Ratchet stood in front of a door to a house; Optimus Prime's door to be specific. He was here around the same time he always was. He knocked on the door.

One…two…three…four…

He knocked again, shifting his weight from one ped to the other. Optimus usually opened the door quickly, or at least shouted to Ratchet that he could just come in. The mech had such an active processor and was so bored that he would practically wait by the front door like a techo-pup until Ratchet came by.

five…six…seven…

Getting frustrated, Ratched opened the door with a spare key he was given in case of emergency. "Optimus, it's Ratchet! I'm just coming to check on you," he called into the house.

No answer.

There weren't any lights on, which surprised the medic. Optimus was usually awake around now, or at least recharging on the sofa instead of in his berthroom. Ratchet walked through the halls, towards the living room. Optimus's wasn't there, so he continued to the main berthroom.

He opened the door, peering inside to see a bundle of at least three thermals lying on the berth. The form underneath them was still shivering somehow. "Optimus?" he called, walking over to the younger mech. "Are you really that cold?"

The bundle didn't answer.

"Optimus, you need to get up." Ratchet sat down on the berth, immediately jumping up when he felt wetness underneath him. No longer giving Optimus a choice, Ratchet pulled the thermals off.

Optimus was in a loose ball, the entire lower-half of his chassis sitting in a large pool of fluids; gestational fluid, to be precise. That meant that Optimus's systems were expelling the nutritional goop that kept the sparkling alive during the fifteen orn carrying cycle. It was usually dumped about a deca-cycle after the sparkling was born. Definitely not an orn before they were ready to leave.

Ratchet kept his cool, thousands of vorns of medical expertise helping him try to get Optimus to sit up. He heaved the completely unresponsive frame into his arms, resting Optimus's helm on his shoulder. "Come on, little warrior, stay with me," he murmured, holding the mech to his chestplates as he called the hospice to send a medical transport right away.

If Optimus didn't get help as soon as they could possibly manage, neither he nor the sparkling would survive.

* * *

Ultra Magnus was working at the Autobot Embassy, guarding the Command Center, when he got a call from Jolt. A short, simple message, explaining that he needed to get his aft to the hospice as quickly as he could. That was it.

Trying his hardest not to publicly panic, Magnus began speed-walking up the steps of the balcony in the command center and over to Prowl. The 2IC was leaning over the railing, two digits pressed to his helm as he talked on his commlink. The mech was in his own world as he talked to whomever it was on the comm.

Magnus didn't have time to wait for Prowl to get off, but he couldn't just leave his post. Frantic optics searched the area for anyone who knew of Optimus's condition that could tell Prowl for him. Hot Rod spent most of his time as temporary Prime in Optimus's office, filling out data pads, so he wouldn't be of any help.

Frag.

"'ey, Mags, whatcha doin' up 'ere?"

Magnus spun around on his heels, and his spark sore when he saw Jazz jogging up the steps towards him. Once the 3IC was next to him, he pulled him away from the center of the platform, away from any prying audios.

"'ey, what're ya doin'?" Jazz questioned, tugging his arm out of Magnus's grip.

"I just got a comm message saying that I am needed at the hospice," Magnus whispered, urgency laced in his voice. It didn't take Jazz long to realize what Magnus was implying. "Ratchet needs me right away. Can you please apologize to Prowl for me?"

"Hey, don' worry 'bout it," Jazz said, smiling up at the larger mech. He gently pushed the larger mech towards the stairs. "Now, go!"

Magnus thanked Jazz for being so understanding, and walked down the steps, across the command center floor and high-tailed it out the door.

Running faster than he probably even had, Magnus pushed himself to go faster. His processor was trying to sort the millions of ideas he had as to why the CMO needed his help in anything. It had to have something to do with Optimus since Magnus was pretty much incompetent when it came to anything medical—except for the in-depth studying he'd done on CNM, of course. Well, Ratchet could have needed some heavy lifting but Magnus really doubted the medic would need him to rush down to the building to pick something up.

There was one other thing that could have happened…but Magnus didn't even want to think about it.

He left the stairwell, now on the first floor of the building, Magnus continued running. The longer he was away from his sparkmate, the longer he was left to the ideas his processor was creating. His CPU was thinking of the most worst things that could have happened to his sparkmate. No thank you.

As he rounded a corner, still running much too fast for someone his size, he rammed directly into somebot. The force of their chassis colliding sent them both backwards and onto their afts, the mech Magnus ran into being pushed back a foot or two due to how much momentum Magnus had been carrying.

"Holy Primus, I'm so sorry!" The words spilled from Ultra Magnus's mouth-plate before he had even looked at the 'bot he had sent to the floor. He looked up and his spark stalled to a halt. Sitting on his aft, glaring daggers at Magnus, was none other than Decimus, member of The Senate. Are you fragging kidding me? Ultra Magnus thought. I do not have time for this.

He had heard stories about Decimus; Primus, everyone who had audio receptors had heard of this mech. He was the most loud-mouthed, rude, stuck up 'bot this side of the galaxy. He believed that anyone who was of a lower class than him was pitiful and "below him." Even mechs of generally the same class as him were discriminated against if they believed in equality for all.

Yes, this included the Prime.

Ultra Magnus helped Decimus stand, and the mech dusted himself off (even if the Embassy is one of the cleanest places on Cybertron). He looked up at Magnus, scanned his chassis, with a few dents Magnus was too lazy to remove and scratched paint from…activities...with a certain mech.

The mech suddenly blew up. He acted as if Magnus had just slapped him with a cheeky grin on his faceplate. "What do you think you are doing?! Running through the Embassy without a care in the universe!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I need to get to the hospice right away. If I could just—" Magnus started, attempting to move around Decimus, who moved with him; he was blocking the exit that was about thirty yards away.

"You will do no such thing until you apologize!" Decimus placed his servos on his hips and glared at Ultra Magnus. Calculating how much time had passed between the comm call from Jolt and now, Magnus stayed silent. All he wanted was to be with his sparkmate. "Well?"

"I'm sorry."

Before Decimus could make him grovel at his peds for forgiveness, Magnus sped around the mech and ran for the exit of the Embassy. He heard words leave Decimus's mouth but he was sliding his ID card against the ID pad and running out the double-doors much too fast to understand any of it.

Magnus transformed into his Cybertronian truck and sped as fast as his tires, and speeding laws, would allow.

**I don't really like how this chapter came out, but I still want your feedback. Review if you can, please. It helps get my lazy butt to actually write instead of taking a month to update. **


	6. Prayers Answered

**Chapter six: Answered Prayers**

If he had to sit in this chair any longer, in a waiting room filled with other worried 'bots sitting in chairs just like his, Magnus was going to kill someone.

Once he had gotten to the hospice, Jolt had been waiting for him at the main entrance. He had transformed, skidding to an abrupt stop a micro-meter away. The young mech hadn't been very clear in his explanation about why Magnus had been practically ordered to come, but he had explained a few things well enough for Magnus's barely there understanding of anything medical; Optimus's systems were confused, both Optimus and the sparkling were in danger, and he was having emergency surgery. None of this made Magnus feel any better than he already had when he first got the news.

He couldn't feel anything over the bond either. While he knew it was still there, and Optimus was still alive, nothing was coming through and Magnus couldn't send clear thoughts or emotions to his mate. Optimus must have closed his side, though Magnus couldn't think of a reason about why. Or, at least, he didn't want to.

His left leg was bouncing, as he hunched his upper-chassis over his lap. Black servos were twined together, the knuckles of his pointer digits pressed to his forehelm. "Please, Primus, let them be okay. I'll do anything, anything as long as both Optimus Prime and our son or daughter make it out of this. Please." Coolant began falling down his faceplate, and his intakes heaved in air, trying to cool his overworked systems.

Magnus jumped when he felt a servo on his shoulder. He looked up, composing himself as well as he could while he wiped away tears before they stained his cheekplates.

An older than old mech sat next to him, a caring smile almost completely hidden by a long and thin beard. The metal of his faceplate had begun to to "wrinkle," as his protoform failed to hold the original frameshape with his great age. Magnus wasn't even sure if he had ever met a mech this old before.

"Are you alright?" The old mech asked. His voice was that of an incredible individual, and someone wiser than any other.

"Yes, I think so…" Magnus replied without looking at the mech, fighting himself to keep his emotions in check. He was already incredibly embarrassed by the humiliation of openly crying in public. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

"No need to say that you are sorry; if I were to accuse a mech, who is clearly in pain, of something that needs an apology...well, then I should be cast into the darkest parts of the Pit."

Magnus gave the old mech a blank expression. He wasn't sure what to say, but the odd words did make sense...in some obscure way.

"Now, would you like to talk about what is causing you pain?" The old mech asked. "Understand that you don't have to, but it does sometimes help to tell another."

Magnus wasn't sure what to say. Did he really want to tell this stranger about what was happening with Optimus and the sparking? No. While the public did know that Optimus was carrying, and had freaked out about it for the last fourteen orns, this is too personal.

"I would rather not get into now," Magnus said.

"If that is your wish." The old mech smiled again, patting Magnus's shoulder. "Would you like talking about something else? To distract yourself?"

"What? Like storm-patterns?"

"Is that what you wish to talk about?"

Magnus shook his helm."No, sir, I was kidding."

"Please, no need to be so formal. Calling me Alpha Trion would be fine."

Magnus stared at the mech with wide optics. "No…" he breathed. "It-you…you're Alpha Trion?" Optimus would sometimes talk about his old mentor, but Magnus had never met the mech. Well, until now.

The old mech didn't answer the question. "Look forward," he ordered.

Magnus did, his mind giving no command for his chassis to do it. As he turned, the doors directly across from him opened. A medic Magnus didn't recognize walked out, and immediately rushed towards Magnus.

"Hello, Ultra Magnus?" The medic asked, minorly excited about something.

"Yes," Magnus said, standing up. He towered over the small, probably a two-wheeler, mech but that didn't seem to bother him. He looked up at Magnus with no embarrassment. "Is Optimus okay?"

The medic turned on his heels without answering Magnus's question. Second time in one klick this has happened; Magnus was getting annoyed. "Come with me."

* * *

The medic didn't lead Magnus where he had assumed that he would. Instead of to the ICU up two floors, they went up four floors, and down hallways Magnus had never seen. That was saying something, since Magnus knew this hospice a bit too well.

After a few klicks, they entered a large room with a sign on the door that immediately caught Magnus's attention. PREMATURE CARE FACILITY

This large room had probably thirty small cribs spread out evenly. It gave even rather large mechs more than enough room to navigate the space between without disturbing the cribs. Couples were peering into some and medics were doing medical things with others. Most of the sparklings in the room looked very sick, which usually meant that the poor things were in pretty rough shape. Magnus's spark broke for the creators.

He continued to follow the medic, his processor having worked out perfectly why he was there.

"Okay, so first off, both Lord Prime and the sparkling will be fine. We had to do a C-section because the gestation fluid was draining so quickly that it was the only choice; Lord Prime is in the ICU now, recovering from the surgery. You won't be able to see him until tomorrow, I'm afraid, as he is too unstable right now to have visitors. Your sparkling, while an orn premature, is mostly healthy. She will need to stay at the hospice at least until her intakes release all the fluid build up. This could take a few jours."

Magnus processed the information, his spark lifting now that he knew that they were both going to be okay. The love of his life and their little femme...WAIT! "She? We had a femme?"

The medic grinned. "Yep, and here she is." He stopped at a crib that matched all the others, except for its precious contents. Inside, was a small sparkling, smaller than she probably should be.

She had a small tube inside her chestplates, and that immediately turned Magnus's sire protocols on red-alert.

"Why did you do this to her?" He nearly growled, glaring at the medic. After the sparkling is born, the sire will get very protective of them and the carrier. It was like a switch in their processor that told them to defend their family at all costs. While the sire was always going to be overprotective, during the first few orns, they might resort to violence if you even looked at his family wrong. It couldn't be helped, and wouldn't hinder his ability to stay calm as long as his daughter was near and safe.

"Calm down, Ultra Magnus, she needs to have the fluid drained and this is the best method. No pain, I promise."

Magnus immediately calmed down, as he looked at the cybertronian he and Optimus had created. She looked like both of them; Optimus's helmet with what looked like antenna stubs, Optimus's bright red chest and arms, Magnus's navy blue legs with white highlights framing her faceplate. Her optics were closed, so Magnus's didn't know who's optics she had inherited.

The way the dim lights of the room hit her soft protoform made her sparkle. Literally; she was sparkling like a crystal. Confused, Magnus leaned his helm in a little closer to her and gasped. Her whole chassis was covered in what looked like the thinnest layer of gold dust, but it obviously wasn't dust. Her natural paint scheme had soft gold sparkles all over it!

"She's beautiful," he murmured, reaching out his digit to stroke her helm. He stopped just before he touched her, unsure. He looked at the medic. "Is it safe if I…?"

"Yep! If you couldn't even touch her, we'd be in a lot more trouble."

Magnus smiled, and ran his pointer digit along his daughter's helm. She immediately stirred, chirping softly as she leaned into Magnus's touch. Her optics opened, staring up at Magnus curiously.

She had Optimus's optics. Wide and beautiful.

"Hey, sweetspark," Magnus whispered, smiling at the sparkling. "I'm your sire."

His daughter, who still needed a name, chirped up at him and reached a small, black servo towards him. She tried to grab his much larger servo, but was still too weak to make it the whole way. Magnus wiggled his digits right in front of her faceplate, giving her the opportunity to latch onto his smallest digit.

She clicked happily now that she had her prize, nuzzling the digit to her faceplate. Magnus could feel this sudden warmth fill his chest, radiating through his whole chassis. Emotions spilled into his mind, none of them his. Love, happiness, and the desire for the carrier all mingled through his spark. His bond with the sparkling, his daughter, was the warmth. It was finally there, strong and alive.

"I don't ever think I have ever been this happy," Magnus breathed, probably talking to the medic whom had left the general area to give him some privacy with his daughter. "You're the most amazing thing I could have asked for." That time, he was talking to his little miracle.

**Yep! Short chapter but SPARKLING! Please review and tell me what you think of how their little femme looks and what you want to happen in future chapters. Also, did you want a mech? Or are you happy with it being a femme? Her name will be announced in the next chapter, so stay tuned.**


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